The Monk and the Gun Is a Quietly Hilarious Takedown of Western Interventionism

It’s no secret that election season can be a deeply stressful time for everyone involved. For those in the U.S., the 2024 presidential race is a harbinger of dread, the prospect of another beleaguering year-long campaign cycle sucking the collective life force from those across the country. However, although this process can be trying, years of dealing with this same song and dance have dulled the pain, or at least have established a baseline expectation of just how nasty things can get. The Monk and the Gun, the sophomore effort from Pawo Choyning Dorji, is centered on people feeling the full brunt of this experience for the first time. 

Set against the backdrop of 2006 Bhutan, The Monk and the Gun is a light but well-delivered political satire about the country’s first democratic elections following their king’s abdication. Through Dorji’s thoughtful framing of his home country and understated humor that captures the specifics of this place, The Monk and the Gun communicates why those living there may not be as enthused about these changes as Western pundits would assume.

Buddhist monk Tashi (Tandin Wangchuk) receives a request from his lama: Find a pair of guns. While the lama isn’t exactly forthcoming about why, he ominously states that “things need to be made right again” regarding the upcoming mock elections recently announced over the radio. As Tashi sets out on his quest, a man from the city, Benji (Tandin Sonam), undertakes a parallel endeavor to help an American named Ron (Harry Einhorn) to locate an antique rifle reported in the area. Elsewhere, locals brace for the imminent elections as tensions flare within households, like how Tshomo (Deki Lhamo) and Choephel (Choeying Jatsho) face issues with their marriage due to the latter’s involvement in helping a family member run for office. As these groups approach the next full moon, when the elections will take place and the lama’s plan will be carried out, their paths converge.

Although elements of The Monk and the Gun’s premise, like its focus on political machinations and firearms, may imply that it’s a heavy, brooding affair, it’s defined by an undercurrent of levity. Dorji, who also wrote the film, weaves in playful comedy, delighting in the quiet absurdity implied by its title. For instance, as Tashi waits for the words of his master, the lama sits with his back to the camera, soft light streaming in from the windows as incense burns. There is silence, a moment of meditative calm. Then the lama matter-of-factly states, “Tashi, I need guns.” There’s no overbearing delivery or direct acknowledgment of how silly it is that a Buddhist holy man wants to pack heat, but the joke lands all the same. This is a picture that has enough faith in its audience to get the bit without additional elaboration.

This low-key tenor extends to its political commentary, much of which focuses on the friction between Western influence and traditionalism. Early on, we hear a tidbit over the radio: A British journalist exclaiming how strange it is that despite their king stepping down, the Bhutanese people are generally lukewarm on democracy. It’s a confusion that succinctly underlines Western countries’ long-held foreign policy approach where other countries are forcibly “liberated” for “their own good” despite being very much not interested. We see a nuanced view of exactly why this relative disinterest in representative government exists in Bhutan and how, for many of those in rural villages, the specifics around who is running the country is a distant, somewhat irrelevant concern. In a particularly hilarious sequence, we see partisan politics being taught in real-time, fault lines developing where they weren’t before. This new dynamic is keenly felt throughout and an understandable point of contention for those wary about the country’s future.